


Ghost of a Chance

by SnailWrites (SymbioteSpideypool)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts, Hospitalization, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6003178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymbioteSpideypool/pseuds/SnailWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas lost his grace and then lost his life. Dean still blames himself for not being able to protect Castiel, and goes into a spiraling, alcohol fueled depression. After a head injury, Dean starts seeing Cas again. His brother gets worried about his mental state and admits Dean to a mental hospital in the hopes that he'll get better. Dean doesn't believe this Cas is a hallucination, but everyone keeps telling him that it's all in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

The funeral was lonely. It was a proper hunter’s funeral, just like Cas deserved. Dean had known he was weak as a human, but to die over something so mundane. Sam gripped his shoulder and handed Dean the matchbox. He slipped out a single match and struck it, watching the tiny flame dance before he tossed it onto the funeral pyre.  
The pyre caught with a whoosh, and burned long into the night. Sam headed back to the car after an hour to wait for Dean. He ended up sleeping there that night. Dean stayed with the ashes and made sure everything burned. Cas deserved to rest. He had been through too much. Dean held the ash smudged trench coat close as the last of the flames burned low in the sunrise.  
“Cas, I… I’ll miss you buddy. I’ll miss you.”  
When Sam woke up they were parked in front of a motel and Dean was shaking him awake.  
“Did you drive?” asked Sam blearily.  
“Yeah, grab your stuff. I’ll check in.”  
Dean checked in and handed off the keys to Sam, but when Sam went back to the parking lot to help Dean unload supplies, the impala was gone. Sam sighed, but he wandered back into the hotel room and turned on his computer. Dean needed some time, Sam knew that.  
~~  
Dean also apparently needed an obscene amount of hard liquor and to get blackout drunk three nights in a row. Sam tried to cut him off, but Dean just kept drinking.  
As it turns out Sam didn’t have to try and stop Dean because he ended up stopping himself. Dean woke up in an unfamiliar room that was far too white and had way too much light for his hangover to deal with. He groaned and shut his eyes again. He needed a beer. He reached up to rub his stinging eyes but felt his right hand stop. He paused, eyes still shut. That wasn’t right. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus on his arm. Handcuff. He was handcuffed to the bed. Kinky. Wait, the handcuffs weren’t pink or fuzzy. Not kinky, his brain supplied. He looked down at himself, covered in a medical gown. He looked up at the curtain blocking his view of the door.  
Definitely not kinky, he decided. He pealed off the tape over his IV and slowly pulled out the needle, pausing to resist throwing up. That did not feel particularly good right now. He wiggled the needle in the handcuff lock until it snapped open. He quickly released himself from the handcuffs and pulled off all the wires and tubes connected to his body. What had happened anyways?  
He hasn’t remembered much of anything since they got to town. He remembers Sam giving him the bitchface; it was probably because Dean did something stupid again. He does a lot of stupid stuff when people die. His hand came up to his head again, he had a throbbing headache. He froze when he felt stitches. His hands quickly wandered over his face, mapping out the bruises and lacerations. Whatever happened had banged him up pretty bad. Which meant he was in a hospital, where people probably matched his face to a criminal database, which would explain the handcuffs, and now he needs to get out.  
He peeked around the curtain, but didn’t see anyone in the other bed. He also didn’t see his clothes or his cellphone anywhere.  
“Oh, that’s just great,” he muttered before checking the hallways and inconspicuously walking down the hall. He pickpocketed the next nurse he passed and ducked into an empty room. He dialed Sam.  
“Come on, Sammy. Pick up, pick up, pick up!”  
Sam picks up on the fourth ring, “Hello?”  
“Sam, it’s me.”  
“Dean?” Sam asks, surprised. “Dean, where are you? I’ve checked every place that sells alcohol in this town and the next three over, but nobody’s seen you!”  
“I’m, I’m in a hospital. In…” He put the cell phone against his shoulder and spun the band on his wrist around. “St. Anthony’s Medical Center.”  
“Dean, are you okay?”  
“Yeah, Sammy. I’m just peachy.”  
“Dean.” Dean could almost feel the look Sam was giving him over the phone. “Alright, I’m looking for it now.”  
Dean could hear a keyboard clicking over the phone. He opened the door a crack and peeked outside. The hall was still clear.  
“Dean.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Why are you in Missouri?”  
“That is an excellent question, but a better question is how soon can you get here?”  
Sam let out a long sigh and said, “Maybe four and a half hours.”  
“So what you’re saying is I’m on my own?”  
“Just don’t get caught before I get there. whose phone are you using?”  
“I got it off a nurse. I’ll call you if anything goes wrong.”  
“Dean, be careful.”  
“I will.” Dean ended the call and tossed the phone into a box of cotton swabs. They’ll find it eventually.  
He scanned the hallways before making his way over to another storage room. This one had uniforms, score! His face probably looked bad, but he could still cover up the scar over his eyebrow with a cap.  
He snagged an id tag off of one of the coats that were hanging in the closet and pinned it to his uniform before heading out. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt he found under his scrubs to hide the wounds on his arms. Nobody really looked at his face after they saw the bruises. He should probably hide those.  
He found a waiting room and picked up a woman’s purse as he walked by. He brought it with him into the handicap bathroom and locked the door. He looked into the mirror and started assessing the damage. He was right, he banged up. He poked at the big purple bruise on his cheek and winced. His nose had a nasty looking cut, but it wasn’t broken. He lifted the cap and looked at the stitches. Three stitches, not too bad.  
Dean dug through the purse and pulled out something skin colored that looked like concealer and went to work. He made a mess of it the first time and almost threw up scrubbing the makeup off his bruise. It looked better the second time, and he wasn’t going to try again.  
He left the purse in the bathroom and wandered back to the room he woke up in. It looked like nobody had come by yet, so he ducked inside to grab the clipboard at the base of his bed. He flipped through the paperwork as he walked to the stairwell. They used one of his aliases, so they definitely thought he was a criminal. There were probably FBI agents in the building by now, ones that knew his face.  
Dean made his way downstairs and started towards the front door, but quickly turned around at the sight of the cops lounging in the waiting area with cups of coffee. There were only four of them, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He kept walking until he found the emergency room and managed to slip out the doors without anyone really noticing. He dumped the clipboard in the garbage can and kept walking down the street. He didn’t have any money for a cab, and he didn’t know where Baby was, but the papers had said car crash, so Baby probably wasn’t an option right now.  
He needed to call Sam and set up a meeting place. He spotted a woman walking to her car in the parking lot.  
“Excuse me, ma’am!” he smiled and jogged over to her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a phone, would you? I just need to call my brother and make sure he’s still picking me up for lunch.”  
“Oh, sure. It’s in my purse, hang on.” She dug out her phone and handed it over to Dean.  
“Thank you,” He dialed Sam’s number.  
“Hello?”  
Hey, it’s me. I got off work early and I just wanted to know if we’re still on for lunch.”  
“Are you in trouble?” Sam asked.  
“Nah, it was good. Mr. Cooper decided to wander today, but everything else went fine.”  
“Alright, if I hurry I can get there in three hours.”  
Dean looked around and spotted a library and replied, “No, no that’s fine. I can just wait at the library for a bit.”  
“I’ll find you when I get there.”  
“Alright, see you then. Bye.”  
Dean hung up and handed the phone back to the woman, “Thank you so much ma’am. I forgot to bring my phone with me today.  
“Oh, you’re welcome.”  
“Have a nice day,” Dean said before walking down the street towards the library.  
Sam found Dean reading in a corner of the library when he got into town just over three hours later.  
“Hey, ready to go?” Sam asked.  
Dean looked up from his book, “Bout time.”  
Sam gave him the look again. “A week, Dean.”  
“Well to be fair I think I was out for most of it.”  
When they got into the car Sam stole he asked, “Dean what happened?”  
“I think I got into a car crash and wound up at the hospital.”  
“Where’s the impala?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine Sammy. Now drive before the cops start tailing our asses.”  
They drove in shifts until they hit the Wyoming border. They bought a cheap motel room and Dean offered to grab something to eat before they both passed out. He bought a case of beer along with some groceries. When he got back he dumped the bag on the table and grabbed a bottle. it opened with a pop and he raised it to his lips, but it slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor before he could drink. There was someone else in the room.  
“Cas?” he choked before he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.


	2. Hello Dean

Dean woke up with a splitting headache and a sour taste in his mouth. Something clinked by his arm. And he was handcuffed to the bed again. At least he was in a hotel room this time.   
“SAM!” he yelled, sitting up.   
“Yeah?” Sam called from the bathroom.  
“Care to explain the handcuffs?”  
“I had to make sure you wouldn’t run off again while the FBI is on our trail.”  
Dean chuckled while rubbing his temple, “Have a little faith, Sammy.”  
“After that stunt you pulled I know I can’t trust you,” came from the bathroom.  
“Can I have my hand back now?”  
Sam emerged from the bathroom, “Yeah, but I’m driving. I found a job not too far from here if you feel up to it.”  
“Sure, just lemme take a shower first. I feel like shit.”  
Sam unlocked the handcuffs and packed them away. “There’s food on the table. Eat something first. And, Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Stay here until I get back.”  
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.”  
Sam got him pie for breakfast. He’s an awesome brother. Dean took a long, warm shower. He washed off the sterile smell of the hospital and the sweat from fitful dreaming. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before walking out to grab a fresh set of clothes. He almost tripped over his surprise when he saw Cas standing in the room, nonchalantly looking around.   
“Cas?” Dean asked in disbelief.  
Cas turned his head, apparently just as surprised to see Dean as Dean was to see him.   
“Dean?”  
Before Dean could say anything the door opened and Sam walked in. He looked at Dean and asked carefully, “You okay? Do you want me to, uh, wait outside or something?”  
“What? No. I was just…” he trailed off when he realized Cas was gone again.   
“Dean?”  
“I’m fine,” he grunted and grabbed some clothes before storming back into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.   
~~  
“Alright, that’s one down and two to go,” Dean said, wiping the blood on his machete off on the body of the vampire he had just beheaded.   
“This place is like a maze, I think we should stick together.”  
“Okay. Let’s work our way down to the basement. There might be hostages down there.”  
Sam grunted an agreement and they moved to the next hallway. Most of the house was empty, and the last two vamps were in the basement like Dean suspected. The only problem was the passed out kid one of the vamps was threatening to bite. If only he could distract him long enough to get the kid out of the way.   
“Put the kid down or we kill your friends upstairs.” Dean bluffed.  
“You’re a hunter. They’re all dead and I have the upper hand. I let go of the kid when you drop your weapons.  
“Alright,” said Dean.  
He slowly lowered his machetes and reached inside his coat, “I’m just gonna take out my knife, okay?”  
The vampire couldn’t react fast enough to the click of the safety being turned off. Dean put a bullet in his head making the vampire drop the boy while Sam sliced the head off the other vampire. Dean picked up his machete and ran over to the vampire he shot before he could grab the kid again. He raised the weapon to strike, but stopped.   
“Cas, get out of the way!” he yelled.  
Sam beheaded the vampire as he was lunging at Dean. Cas was gone again.  
“Cas?” Sam asked.  
“He was right here. I saw him.”  
“Dean, Cas is dead.”  
Dean turned to look at Sam, “But I saw him. He was right here!” he said gesturing to the headless vampire bleeding on the floor in frustration.   
Sam looked at him with concern, “Dean, I didn’t see Cas. He wasn’t there.”  
Dean looked away. He put down his machete and carried the kid outside without a word.   
Sam picked up the rest of their weapons and followed his brother out.   
~~  
They drove to the nearest hospital and dropped the kid off. The nurse said he was going to be fine. Sam decided Dean wasn’t allowed to drive on the way back to the motel.   
“Dean,” Sam started.  
“I’m fine. There’s nothing to be worried about.”  
“Dean you almost died. Whatever is going on is affecting your hunting. You can’t hunt if this keeps up.”  
Dean stared straight ahead in an attempt to ignore his brother.   
“Dean, you know Cas isn’t coming back this time.”  
“Shut up, Sammy. Just shut up.”  
Sam turned his attention back to the road when Dean turned up the volume on the Metallica song that was playing.   
~~  
“Look I’m just saying, maybe the crash did a number on you. You were out for a week, probably in a coma. Traumatic head injuries can mess up your brain.”  
“Sam for the last time I’m fine. Now stop trying to bring it up.” Dean angrily stomped away and got into the passenger side of the new car Sam had stolen after they ditched the last one.   
Sam went back inside to grab the rest of their bags.   
“Hello, Dean.”  
Dean whipped his head around fast enough to get whiplash.   
“Cas?!”  
Cas nodded his head.   
“Cas! How are you…” he trailed off when he reached out to touch him and his hand passed right through Castiel’s.  
“What are you?” Dean asked after a moment.  
Castiel sighed, “To be honest, I am not entirely certain.”  
Dean pulled his hand back and asked, “What do you mean?”  
“I do not possess the powers that human ghosts would develop after staying in this plane of existence as I am not a human; however, I have not been sent to purgatory as the souls of disgraced angels usually are.”  
“Are you like a super ghost or something? I mean, I can see you.”  
“But no one else can.”  
“Huh?”  
“I have tried to make contact with angels, reapers, demons, Sam, and all manner of creatures. You are the only one that can see or hear me,” Castiel shrugged.  
“You don’t think that, maybe, I’m just imagining you, do you?” Dean looked into Cas’s eyes imploringly.  
Castiel stared back for a while before answering, “I do not know. I believe that I exist, as I still retain a consciousness, but there appears to be no way for you to prove that to yourself.”  
“Oh,” was all Dean said. “So how come you keep disappearing on me?”  
“Whenever I tried to contact you I ended up putting you into… awkward situations.”  
Dean chuckled, “Well, you have my permission to just hang around whenever.”  
“Thank you, Dean. I have missed having someone talk back to me when I speak.”  
“No problem.”  
Sam opened the car door and got in.   
“Hey Sammy,” Dean said with a smirk, “say hi to Cas.”  
“Dean,” Sam sighed, “I’m not going to encourage your delusions.”  
“No, I’m serious. He’s sitting in the backseat. He told me he’s in some weird ghost state right now,” Dean smiled.   
Sam shook his head and started up the car.   
“Come on Sammy. Now you’re just being rude.”  
“Cas spoke up, “I do not mind if he chooses to ignore me. I too would doubt my existence in the given situation.”  
Dean let out a breath, “Alright. Sam, Cas says he’s okay with you pretending he’s not there since the ‘situation’ is weird.”  
“He’s not there,” muttered Sam under his breath before pulling out of the parking lot.   
Dean and Cas kept up a lively chatter for the entirety of the drive. Occasionally Dean would relay what Cas had said to him so that Sam would understand. It was almost sweet, if it weren’t completely fucked up. Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and made a decision. This was for Dean’s own good.  
About an hour later they pulled into a parking lot.   
Dean’s smile fell. “Boise State Psychiatric Center? What the fuck, man.”  
“Dean this is for your own good,” Sam started.  
“Like hell it is! You want to throw me in the loony bin! I never did this to you, and you’ve done plenty of dumb shit to deserve it too.”  
“Dean, just listen to me,” Sam tried again.  
“No,” dean got out of the car and started walking towards the highway.   
Castiel walked behind him, but when Sam got out and tried to follow he said, “I’ll be back later,” and disappeared.  
“Look at that, you scared Cas off!” Dean turned around to scream at Sam.  
“Dean, listen!”  
“NO! You listen to me! I. Am. Fine. Cas is still out there. Just because you can’t see him doesn’t mean that I’m fucking crazy!”  
“Dean you’re talking to a hallucination,” Sam pleaded, “Loosing Cas did a number on you. I get that. I really do. But he’s gone.”  
“He’s not gone!” Dean screamed.   
“Just look at the facts, Dean. You are the only one that can see him. You are the one that almost drunk himself to death when Cas died. You are the one that almost got yourself killed because you didn’t want to hurt a hallucination. Dean all you’re doing is hurting yourself. Please, if you know that you’re fine then prove it.”  
“How. How am I supposed to prove to you that Cas is really there?” Dean flung his arms out, “Tell me how!”  
“Walk into that hospital and get a brain scan. If there are no irregularities then I will stop doubting you. I will admit that Cas is real and I’ll leave it alone.”  
Dean let his hands drop, “That’s it?”  
“That’s all,” confirmed Sam.  
Dean thought about it for a bit, and finally agreed, “Fine, but you owe me pie,” He followed his brother into the building apprehensively.  
~~  
Dean woke up to a pounding headache in an unfamiliar room with his arm handcuffed to the bed. He rattled the handcuff in frustration, “Seriously?”


	3. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I rewrote this chapter since it just read funny. I slowed down the pace, and spread it out to two chapters.  
> Mentions of self harm and past trauma. Flashback to Hell.

“SAAAAAAM!” Dean yelled, yanking at the handcuffs, “Sam, this isn’t funny!”  
A man in kitten patterned scrubs and a smile that was far too wide came into the room with a clipboard and more patience than Dean could understand.  
“Dean Singer?” the man asked, not looking up from where he was scribbling down notes on his papers.  
Dean relaxed slightly; maybe this man had the keys on him. “Yeah, that’s me. Where’s my brother?”  
The man gave Dean a sad smile this time and said, “He had to leave last night, but he promised he would come visit you today.”  
“And any particular reason I’m chained to a bed?” he rattled the handcuffs for emphasis.   
“How much of last night do you remember, Mr. Singer?”  
“I remember that my brother tricked me into walking into this godforsaken hellhole, and that I tried to leave,” Dean’s brow pinched, “Why couldn’t I leave?”  
The man, Nurse Hemi his nametag read, gave Dean the most insultingly pitiful look Dean had ever seen, “It’s alright sugar, the Doctor will come and explain your situation in a minute. Your brother told us you often reacted negatively to unexpected information, so I can’t get your handcuffs off till then.”  
The man gave him another pitiful look and then left.   
Dean huffed and lay back down in the bed. There wasn’t anything around that Dean could use to open the lock, and even if he did they probably had more giant, burly nurses wandering around to stop him. He was so screwed.  
“Dean?”  
Dean turned his head to look at Castiel, “Hey Cas.”  
“Are you feeling alright?” Cas asked, concern creasing his features.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sam tricked me into this. I’m gonna kill him if he shows his sorry ass.”  
“That would not be advisable.”  
Dean chuckled, “I’ll only kill him a little, promise.”  
They sat in silence, the only muffled noises coming from the hallway.   
Dean had a thought, “Hey, Cas?”  
“Yes, Dean.”  
“You can wander around wherever, right?”  
Cas tilled his head, “Yes, I have freedom of travel in this form.”  
“Could you go find the doctor or whoever has my papers and see if you can read what they have on me? I know you can’t touch anything, but maybe there’s something laying out.”  
Cas nodded, “I will return in a moment.”  
Cas simply vanished, and for a moment Dean was left wondering if it was all just a figment of his imagination. He quickly shook off the feeling and tried to figure out why they would keep him here. Probably because of his “violent tendencies” or something else about how being a hunter fucks with your head. Military vets always have PTSD, maybe he had it too. He didn’t know what it actually did, but there was always the possibility.   
How long was Cas going to take? All he had to do was wander down the hall and peek at whatever papers were laying around. Maybe Cas found something interesting to look confused at, like a bobble head or something else equally useless. He had a fondness for the strangest things.  
Dean blinked and Cas appeared back in his room.   
“Find anything interesting?”  
“Dean, I believe the doctor should be the one to relay this information to you,” Cas shuffled nervously.  
“Come on Cas, it can’t be that bad,” Dean’s grin fell the longer Castiel stared.  
“How bad is it?” Dean asked quietly.  
“Malignant tumor of the brain.”  
“Shit,” Dean swore. “Can they fix it?” Dean asked, still hopeful.  
“It’s too far along, I’m so sorry Dean.”  
Dean closed his eyes, covering his face with his left hand and breathing deeply. “No, no. It’s okay Cas. Sometimes shit hits the fan.”  
“If I only had my grace, I could help you-“  
Dean cut him off, “NO!”  
Cas stood in stunned silence.  
“Cas,” Dean’s voice shook slightly, “You’re not real.” He couldn’t bear to see the look on Castiel’s face right now, but he kept talking, “Cas is dead, and you’re just something I made up to pretend I could get my best friend back. You aren’t real and there’s no tumor in my brain because you don’t exist. The shrink is gonna walk in here and tell me I had a fucked up childhood, but that’s it.”  
Dean opened his eyes and looked around at the empty room, “You’re not real.”  
The Doctor walked in and thankfully didn’t comment on his state. He must’ve looked suspiciously like he was about to cry. He certainly felt like it. This was like Cas dying all over again.  
“Dean Singer, I’m Doctor Page, and I am very sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this, but your MRI scans showed a tumor in your brain.”  
Dean froze, his eyes widening.  
“Unfortunately the tumor is too far along to-“  
“How long?” he interrupted.  
“Excuse me?”  
“How long do I have?”  
“Mr. Singer I think it would be better if I talked you through the results of your tests first before we discuss treatment options.”  
“No, I don’t want treatments just tell me how long I’ve got, damn it!” Dean yelled angrily.  
They started at each other, Doctor Page fighting herself over the answer, “I don’t know exactly how long you have before the tumor takes over, but given the circumstances I’d estimate about nine months.”  
Dean laughed, almost hysterical.  
“I’m sorry Mr. Singer, is there anything else you’d like to know right now?”  
Dean just rolled away from her and lay still.  
“I’ll have one of the nurses go over treatment plans with you when your brother arrives.”   
She left, and Dean started crying.  
Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to go like this. He’s literally looked Death in the eye before. He knew a reaper by name and he was drinking buddies with the king of Hell. He always thought it was sirens or a demon that would get him while he was distracted. He was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory. This was fucking bull.  
“Dean?”  
“Cas?” Dean quickly scrubbed at his eyes and refused to turn. “Cas, you were right. You knew what the doctor would tell me before she came in here. Does that mean you’re real?”  
“I could try and prove my existence again, if it will put your mind at ease.”  
Dean smiled slightly, “Thanks Cas, but that’s enough for me.”  
“What are you going to do now?”  
Dean took a deep breath and turned back over to face Cas, pretending that his eyes weren’t as raw as they felt. “I’m gonna break out of here and have the time of my life.”  
Cas smiled, “I’m looking forward to it.”  
~~  
As it turns out it is very difficult to break out of a heavily guarded medical facility when the staff members all know your face and name. He had to stop trying after the fifth night in a row of being handcuffed to his bed because he wanted his hand back, damnit.  
When Sam came back Dean started yelling. He must’ve been showing “violent tendencies” again since they had to sedate him. When he woke up the Doc went over the treatment plan Sam had picked out. They were going to try and prolong his life for as long as possible.  
He was going to have a 15 to 20 minute radiation therapy session nearly every day. The chemo treatments were supposed to start next week. They did not sound fun, and he was supposed to lose his hair. He liked his hair.   
Dean gave up trying to talk to Cas in secret since he was going to die anyways. Might as well have some fun with it and freak out the staff while he had a chance. They all thought it was just hallucinations caused by the tumor anyways.   
The first day at the hospital was hell. Well, not quite as bad as literal Hell, but it was close. He started going through withdrawal. Maybe Sam was right about the alcohol problem. He was shaking, sweating, and vomiting for hours. Cas was always hovering nearby, reminding him that the effects of withdrawal would most likely become subdued after the first week. It didn’t help.  
Dean barely slept, he was shaking so hard. He was sweating through his sheets and his heart felt like it was fluttering out of his chest. The nurses came in to check on him a lot. But it wasn’t the second day that was the worst. It was the third.  
Even when the hallucinations started, Dean could still pick Castiel apart from the rest. They felt different. He knew those were fake. He could tell, somehow. He knew the meat hooks digging into his skin weren’t really there. He knew the screams didn’t echo like that in this building. He knew that the knife in his hand wasn’t real and the woman missing her sin wasn’t really begging him to stop and for the love of God just let her go, please. Please…  
Cas was there telling him to do something, anything if he could hear him. Then the nurse was asking him questions. Dean didn’t remember any time passing, but Cas said he had had a seizure. Apparently seizures are not fun.  
The only good thing to come from his pain and suffering was a free pass out of group therapy that week. Too bad he wouldn’t realize his blessing until he had to start attending the next week.  
He also had to refuse to talk to a continually frustrated therapist about his nonexistent problems for an hour or so once a week. He got tired of avoiding questions and starting retelling stories about hunts, which mostly makes him frustrated. He thinks Dean is a horror movie buff.   
Group therapy was definitely the worst. Every Tuesday and Thursday he had to sit in a circle with the same group of sad sacks and listen to them moan and groan about their problems. And then he had to share his feelings. “Sharing” is not his thing.  
The youngest girl in his group, Savanna, she was okay. She was going through the whole emo phase, but she had some good music and let Dean borrow her iPod on occasion.   
There was another man that was always pacing back and forth in the lounge, muttering under his breath. He approached Dean after three weeks.   
He wouldn’t sit down. He just hovered, looking around conspiratorially before he whispered to Dean, “Can you see them?”  
“See who, exactly?” asked Dean, mildly concerned.  
“The ghosts, I know they’re there. I’ve seen them before.”  
Dean relaxed and tried talking to the poor guy. He must’ve been paranoid out of his mind. “Cas isn’t really a ghost. He’s just,” Dean screwed up his face, “I dunno, but he’s not a ghost.”  
The man stared at him with wide owlish eyes. His hands wouldn’t stop moving, picking the skin off of the palm of his already raw and calloused hands.   
“Just trust me, he’s not a ghost. I’ve dealt with ghosts before.”  
“You’ve seen them too?” the man asked, eyes going wider than dinner plates.  
“Yeah, your average poltergeist likes to make themselves known, and I haven’t seen any signs of one hanging around here. So you’re safe.”  
“No!” groaned the man, banging his head on the table over and over.   
“Hey! Stop that!” Dean pulled the man’s head up and restrained him from hurting himself again.   
“They’ll find me!” whimpered the man.  
“Tell him how to protect himself from ghosts. It may give him ease to know he is not powerless.” Cas offered.  
“Aright,” Dean agreed. “Tell you what, man. I know how to keep the suckers out, so how about we go ghost proof your room?”  
The man gasped, “Really? You can do that?”  
Dean gave him a smile and stood, “Yep, but first we need a few supplies.”  
Ditching the guards wasn’t easy, but the guy sure knew how to cause a distraction. He really didn’t think a guy that skinny had the strength to climb on top of the big metal cabinet that was bolted to the floor in the lounge.  
Dean hoped the kitchen staff wouldn’t notice and snuck out with a jar full of salt. He casually made his way back to his room and stashed the salt. He had to wait another thirty minutes before the nurses got the skinny guy down.   
They met up in Dean’s room and then made their way over to the man’s room and set up a wide salt circle on the floor.   
“Ghosts can’t touch salt,” Dean explained while pouring out a think line, “so if you ever think one is nearby, just hop inside and they can’t touch you.”  
The man rung his hands now and nodded frequently.   
Dean slid off one of his rings. They were all plain, thick bands.  
“Ghosts also hate iron. You touch ‘em with anything iron and it’ll sting like a bitch.” He handed the ring to the man, “Here. It’s made of iron, so if you ever need to defend yourself, all you have to do is touch it with the ring.”  
The man slipped on the ring and tears began welling up in his eyes. “Thank you.” He smiled at Dean and moved to hug him.  
“Hey, whoa! I don’t do chick flick moments.”  
The man hugged him anyways and Dean awkwardly patted the man’s back, looking to Castiel for help.  
Cas just stood there and smirked at Dean’s discomfort like the smug little ass he was.  
The man finally released Dean and wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Sorry,” the man laughed, “I forgot to tell you my name, Ganesh Mullur.”  
Dean stuck his hand out for the man to shake, “Dean Singer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critiques are appreciated.


	4. Savannah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the last chapter and split it into two if you read the first three chapters before I updated. Go back and read chapter three again before this one.

“How do you like being bald?” asked Savannah.  
“Oh, it’s great. I like the feel of the wind whistling through my scalp.”  
Savannah laughed and Cas smiled.  
“Chemo’s a bitch man.”  
“I can tell,” she replied. “Does it make your skin all weird like that too?”  
“No, that’s the radiation therapy.”  
“Looks nasty.”  
“Itches like Hell, but if I it scratch too much then I start bleeding,” Dean complained.  
Savannah sat up, “I might have something that’ll help, hang on.”  
She army crawled under the bed came back with a Tupperware of pink goop which Dean was instantly suspicious of, but in the end the itching won out.  
She smeared the stuff on the back of his neck where the skin was cracking and he let out a low moan. “God, that feels so good. It’s like skin crack. What’s in that stuff?”  
“It’s got aloe, a non-oil based lotion that smells like roses, and some sort of numbing cream that makes your skin feel all warm when it wears off.”  
“How did you even come up with this?” Dean asked.  
“I used to get really bad scabs and they would get itchy, so I would scratch them open a lot. I came up with this so I would stop bleeding on all my nice long-sleeved shirts.”  
Cas tilted his head again, “The scars on her arm, were they self-inflicted? Is that why Savannah is here?”  
Dean still refused to open his eyes while she worked the cream around the cracks on the back of his head. “Cas, shut up.”  
“She cannot hear me. Why should I stop talking?” he asked.  
“Because I can and I’m not gonna ask. Now lay off it, Cas.”  
She stopped rubbing the pink goop into Dean’s head and put away the tub, wiping her fingers off on her sweatpants.  
“What did he say?” she asked while sliding the tub back under her bed, behind an old backpack.  
“Angels don’t really get the whole personal space thing. I guess that applies to awkward situations too,” he shot Castiel glare.  
“What was he asking about?” she sat down on the floor besides Dean and pulled her knees up to her chest.  
“Ah,” Dean cleared his throat. “You, uh, mentioned long-sleeved shirts.”  
Her face fell, “Oh.”  
“Like I said, angels don’t have boundaries.”  
“Do you really want to know?” she asked quietly.  
“No, I didn’t say anything! It was Cas. I didn’t mean to bring it up or anything.”  
She pulled down a sleeve and held out a bare arm. “Can he see now?”  
“Yeah,” Dean said without looking.  
Castiel tried touching her arm, but his hand passed right through her again. He looked in frustration at his own useless limb, “I could heal her if I had my grace.”  
“You could do everybody here a lot of good if you had your grace.”  
Savannah looked at him funny.  
“No use crying over spilled milk, right Cas?” asked Dean.  
“I am incapable of drinking milk, and if I were not I still doubt that I would become emotionally attached enough to mourn the-“ Cas stopped talking. “Is that another expression?”  
“Yeah. It means what’s done is done. No use hanging onto what ifs.”  
“Do you always talk to yourself like that?” asked Savannah.  
“I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to Cas.”  
“So, are you a schizophrenic?”  
“No, Cas is real.”  
“I’ll bet that’s what all schizophrenics say.”  
“No really. Castiel was an angel. He fell and lost his mojo, then he… he died.”  
“So you talk to your dead best friend, who’s a magic man with wings, and you still think you don’t belong here?” Savannah gave Dean that look again.  
“No, but Cas is real and he’s not a magic man with wings. He’s a fallen angel. He lost his wings and died a human.”  
“I find this topic unpleasant,” offered Castiel.  
“Shut up Cas, I’m trying to prove a point,“ Dean replied.  
“Dude, I tried to off myself and that’s still more fucked up.”  
Dean looked over at Savannah, “What if I could prove it.”  
Savannah’s head flopped to the side to look at Dean, “How?”  
Dean got up, “Okay, so Cas can float through walls and whatever and see and hear stuff. If he’s real then he can tell me what’s going on when I’m not there. I’m going to go to my room and Cas will stay here with you, then you do something and Cas will come back and tell me what you did.”  
“You’re crazy.”  
“I’m gonna make you eat those words!” he yelled as he ran out the door.  
“I never agreed to this,” Castiel grumbled.  
Savannah looked around awkwardly for a bit then asked, “Hey, Cas, Castiel? Cas? You there?”  
She waited but when nothing happened she laughed at herself, “Of course there’s no one there. Great, now I’m catching his crazy.”  
“Alright,” she dug around under her bed and pulled out the old backpack. “Hey Cas, if you’re in here come look at this.”  
She dumped a few photographs on the floor and picked up one with an Asian couple and their daughter all wearing gold party hats and sitting by a big pink birthday cake with five candles on top. She smiled at the picture.  
“This,” she pointed to the woman, “is my mom, and this,” she pointed to the man, “is my dad. Or as I like to call them, the bitch and the asshole. Dad left because mom couldn’t have any more kids after me. I guess I wasn’t good enough. Mom says I’m the reason dad left. She pretended I didn’t exist for a year. You know I’m the one that tried to solve their problems, and I ended up in a mental hospital while those two lunatics get to run free. Neither of them have visited me since I got here. I’ve been here for three years. I’d put myself up for adoption if I weren’t already 19.”  
She and Cas stared at the photo in silence.  
“Now you know how I got my scars. I was a kid that couldn’t handle her family falling apart and her parents abandoning her. I tried to take the easy way out and I even fucked that up. Go get Dean. If he can guess any of that I’ll eat my sweatpants.”  
Castiel looked down at Savannah as she shoved everything back under the bed. He walked to Dean’s room and told him to come back.  
“Well, what did your angel friend tell you?” she asked when he walked in.  
“Nothing yet. Let’s hear it Cas,” Dean stood expectantly.  
“Dean I want you to tell Savannah that she is very brave.”  
Dean made a face, “Oookay? Savanna, you are very brave.”  
“She is not to blame for her parents’ actions and she does not deserve to feel responsible for them.”  
“Don’t blame yourself for what your parents did, and you don’t deserve to feel responsible for them.”  
“The adolescent human brain is even less well equipped to deal with mental and emotional strain than human adults and to have such circumstances placed on you was no doubt horrific.”  
“Being a teenager fucks you up, and having that kind of pressure on you all the time just made it worse.”  
“Dean at least try to use my words.”  
“I am trying, but you talk too much and nobody wants to hear a lecture on how brains develop.”  
Cas sighed heavily, “You are not a coward for the choices you made and the actions you took. You are a survivor.”  
“You aren’t a coward for what you did, you’re a survivor.”  
“And you have never been worthless.”  
“And you were never worthless.”  
“Now hug her.”  
“I’m not gonna hug her.”  
“Just give her a hug.”  
“I don’t do chick flick moments.”  
“She’s crying.”  
“She’s what?” Dean looked down at Savanna, who was sobbing into her knees, “Oh, shit! Cas, what did you do. I broke her, didn’t I. Did I break her?” He got down on his knees and wrapped his arms around her until she quieted down.  
“Ask her if she’s feeling better.”  
“Better?” asked Dean.  
Savannah lifted her head from her knees and nodded. “Where’s Cas now?”  
Dean let go of her with one arm to point at Cas, who was beside the both of them.  
Savannah stared Cas straight in the crotch with bloodshot eyes and said, “Thanks Cas.”  
Dean couldn’t help himself and started laughing. Savannah joined in with her choked laughter and even Cas cracked a smile.  
~~  
“Like hell I’m letting you paint my nails,” Dean exclaimed.  
Savannah rolled her eyes at him and sat down on his bed. She pulled several colorful vials out of her sweatshirt pockets and scattered them in her lap. Cas moved to make room. He didn’t particularly like people passing through him.  
“Hey, you want more magic goop then I get to paint your nails.”  
“I’d rather die.”  
“Congratulations you’re halfway there. Now gimme your hand.” She extended her hand and waited for Dean to do the same.  
“Not happening, kid.”  
“Why not?” she asked, exasperated.  
“I’m not gonna do any gay shit before I die. I’ve gone this long and I can last a few more months.”  
“Oh my God, Dean. I knew you were dumb but how do you get this fucking stupid.”  
“What?”  
“You do know I’m a lesbian, right”  
“I’d say that’s hot but you are way too young for me.”  
The look she gave him rivaled that of Sam’s I-am-ashamed-to-call-you-my-brother bitchface. “Dean, because you are my friend and because I don’t like punching cancer patients in the face, I am going to explain this to you very slowly and very carefully. I need you to pay close attention, okay?”  
“Okay?” Dean answered hesitantly.  
“Drop the macho man bullshit and pull your head out of your ass. Being gay is not a bad thing. It’s also not an abnormal thing. We’re fucking people, Dean. Not every gay man wants to jump your ass and not every lesbian is just a straight girl looking for attention. Also you don’t have to be feminine to be gay and you don’t have to be gay to be feminine. A little nail polish isn’t gonna make you suck dick like a lollypop any more than touching something pink will.”  
Dean looked partly terrified and partly confused. Castiel just stood there reminding Dean that sexual orientation is irrelevant to angels as angels do not even have genders or experience sexual attraction.  
“I know, Cas.”  
This time Savannah looked confused, “What did he say?”  
“He says angels don’t ‘experience sexual attraction’ so it doesn’t matter to them.”  
“Cool! Angels are all asexual and my priest can suck it,” Savannah laughed.  
“What’s asexual mean?” Dean asked.  
“Asexual means that you don’t experience sexual attraction.”  
“I don’t follow.”  
“Okay, so say you have a cat, and it’s like a really pretty cat.”  
“Okay.”  
“Do you think the cat is sexy?”  
“What the fuck, no. It’s a cat.”  
“There you go. That’s how I see people. “  
“Wait,” Dean motioned for her to stop, “I thought you said you liked chicks?”  
“I do. I’m a homoromantic asexual. I can fall in love with girls; I just don’t find anybody sexy. Romantic orientations don’t always match up with sexual orientations.”  
“That’s fucked up.”  
“Rude.”  
“Not you, I just meant. Like, so people can sometimes fall in love with guys and be attracted to chicks?”  
Savannah thought about it, “Yeah, a guy would be a homoromantic heterosexual and a girl would be a heteromantic homosexual.”  
“I think… I think that sounds very confusing.” Dean flopped back into his pillows.  
“Give yourself some time to think it over, and while you dust off the old cogs,” she held out her hand again.  
Dean reached out his hand, “Go ahead, maybe Cas will shut up if I give in.”  
“Say no to peer pressure Dean,” she tutted while holding up different colors to his skin. “Hey, ask Cas if I should use this blue or this one.”  
“Dean, tell her the lighter one matches my eyes.”  
Dean just groaned again, “The lighter one.”  
“Nice choice.”  
They sat in silence, Savannah carefully painting two coats on each nail to get the baby blue thick enough so that the nail wouldn’t show through. Cas watched her methodical painting with interest, and Dean watched Cas. The nail polish wasn’t quite blue enough to match his eyes.  
“Hey, Savannah?”  
“Hmm?”  
“What is it called when a guy really, really like women, like seriously thinks women are hot. Really soft and beautiful…”  
“Get to the point, Dean.”  
“But he also checks out some guy ass occasionally. Just a little. Like once or twice.”  
“Bisexual. It doesn’t matter what preferences you have. If you’re really attracted to guys and only a little to girls, or really attracted to girls and only a little to guys or even 50/50; it doesn’t matter. Still bi.”  
“Huh.”  
“Embracing your inner gay?”  
“It was a hypothetical situation.”  
“Sure. Alright, this hand is done. What do you think?”  
He pulled his hand back and inspected the blue on his nails. “It feels… wet. And heavy.”  
“You get used to it.”  
“I think it looks pretty,” says Cas.  
Dean looked at him for a long moment, and then looked back at his nails. “Yeah, it does look nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I feel better now that I finished rewriting that bit. I'm almost done with the next chapter. I'll probably only have two more chapters. I might tack on an extra ending or slip it into the last chapter.


	5. Last Request

Dean woke up to a pounding throb in his head again. He swallowed painfully, his swollen throat scratched and dry. He groaned, but didn’t get up just yet. He kept his eyes closed and laid still for several more moments, focusing on breathing slowly and trying to ignore the haze of pain that accompanied waking up.   
In.  
Out.  
In.  
Out.  
“Dean.”  
“Cas?” Dean croaked.  
“No, it’s Savannah. Do you need me to get the nurse?” she asked.  
Dean still didn’t open his eyes just yet. “No,” he whispered, “Just need water.”  
Savannah came back with some water and helped Dean sit up so he could drink from the glass. She brought him a straw this time, since last time he couldn’t tilt the glass on his own.   
He drank deep and slow. The cool water soothed his inflamed throat.  
“Do you want me to get the goop?” she asked.  
Dean just grunted an affirmative and tightly gripped the water glass sitting in his lap. When she came back, she took the glass from him and put it down on the table next to his bed. She gave Dean one of his pillows to prop himself up while he leaned forward and she went to work, carefully massaging the pink goo into the marred flesh on Dean’s scalp.  
“Isn’t this the nurse’s job?” he mumbled.  
“Shut up,” Savannah cuffed him lightly, “I can be nice to a friend occasionally.”  
They both chuckled.  
Dean heard Cas yelling his name from down the hallway. Cas doesn’t yell unless something’s wrong.  
“Savannah, help me up,” Dean demanded.  
“Not until I’m finished. I still have the other half of your big head to do.”  
“No, something’s wrong,” he insisted.   
As she was helping him sit back up, Cas burst into the room. “Dean! The angels are here!”   
If Dean’s face were any paler he would have spooked a ghost.  
“Dean, are you okay? You don’t look so good. Should I get a Nurse?” worried Savannah.  
Dean nodded, swallowing thickly. She ran out of the room and straight into Nurse Hemi who had come to announce that Dean had a visitor.  
Naomi seemed to command the attention of the whole room, even if its sole occupant was Dean. She placed her hands behind her back and smiled, standing by his bed and looking down at his marred face, “Hello, Dean. How are you?”  
Dean decided not to grace that question with an answer.  
“I see.”  
“Why are you here?” Dean’s raspy voice demanded.   
“Right to business then. I’m here to make a deal.”  
“Not interested.”  
Naomi smiled pityingly at him. His voice must be worse than he initially thought.   
“At least hear me out, Dean. I’m willing to heal you in exchange for information.”  
“I thought demons made deals?” Dean taunted.  
Naomi’s smile fell, “A trade then.”  
“Not. Interested.”  
This time she ignored him and continued talking, “Heaven has recently gone through some… changes.”  
“I’ll say,” Dean laughed and then winced.  
“The hierarchy has been removed and we started over from scratch. Angels, as of now, do not have a grand plan, you will be happy to hear, outside of efficiently running heaven. We have realized that through our… intervention on Earth we have upset the balance of many lives and have since been working to set everything right. We’re leaving humans alone, for the most part, and turning our focus to rebuilding heaven and maintaining the evils running rampant on Earth.”  
Dean snorted. Angels couldn’t keep their noses out of other people’s business even when they were withdrawing.  
“My job is to find and account for our brothers and sisters lost in battle or otherwise. A lot of angels were lost, and a lot of angels went missing. One of those missing angels is Castiel.”  
Dean’s face hardened and Cas’s eyes widened.   
“He’s dead. Died a human. I can tell you where to find his grave.” Dean offered flatly.  
Naomi hummed slightly. “Castiel is a special case. He lost his grace and died a human, but his soul has failed to appear in Heaven, Hell, Purgatory or even to remain here. I have scoured the Earth and still found no trace. The only clue I have is his grace, which consistently leads back to you, Dean Winchester.” Her demeanor softened, “Dean, I’m just trying to find out what happened to him. He was our brother and we wish to mourn him properly, as a devout follower of our father. Do you know what happened to Castiel?”  
Dean looked at her, his face passive, “Yeah, I know where Cas is.”   
Cas made an incredulous face at him over Naomi’s shoulder.  
“He’s right there,” Dean pointed at a very confused Castiel. “We have tea parties on Fridays. On Tuesday’s I go over conspiracy theories with the guy that thinks the president is a lizard man and on Wednesdays I get my head examined by the shrink.”  
Naomi pursed her lips.  
“Lady, I am in here for a reason. If you find Cas then give me a call, but I can’t do shi-“ Dean started coughing uncontrollably, his face flushing red with the effort to breath between chest rattling coughs.  
Naomi, to her credit, waited patiently for him to regain control over his breathing again. The machinery attached to Dean gave beeped before emitting a low hum in the following silence.  
Dean sighed deeply, taking a moment to relax before he whispered, “Still have his grace?”  
“Castiel’s grace is being held in heaven.”  
“He’d like that,” Dean smiled lazily. “Do I get a last request, like, from heaven?”  
Naomi tilted her head slightly, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”  
“I saved the world, so can heaven do me a solid? Dying wish? Something?”  
“I’m not sure I have that kind of authority, and if you’re going to ask for more time then I’m afraid-“  
Dean interrupted her mid speech, “Shhhhhhhhhh.” His speech was becoming slurred as he held a finger lazily to his lips and said, “I lived my life. Now I wanna call in a personal favor, lady.” He giggled a little.  
“Dean Winchester, are you alright?” Naomi asked, slightly concerned.  
“What?” Dean’s eyes looked glassy. He blinked back into focus, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good. It’s all good.” He pointed to the IV drip and smiled, “I got the good stuff.”  
“What did you want to ask?”  
“Oh! Right. I want to, for my last… the last thing I do. I wanna see Cas.”  
She was quickly losing patience, “Castiel is currently missing. That is why I contacted you.”  
“No, no. I wanna hold his grace.”  
Naomi stood with her mouth hanging open, but nothing came out for a long while. “But, but you’re human. It would incinerate you!”  
“I know th… that. Just want Cas to be my last memory is all.” He pointed to Cas, standing off to Naomi’s left and said with a dopey grin on his face, “I love you, man. You’re the best, Cas.”  
Naomi looked as though she had been slapped. She disappeared with a faint fluttering of wings as Nurse Hemi came back to check on Dean.  
“Hey, Dean. How’s the morphine treating you?”   
“D’ you gimme the good stuff?” Dean asked.  
“Yeah, we gave you the good stuff.”  
“You. You’re a good man, stuff. You know that?”  
Nurse Heni smiled, “What happened to your visitor?”   
Dean motioned for him to lean in closer so he could whisper, “She flew away.”


	6. A Deal

“Maybe we should… throw me a… funeral party,” Dean wheezed.   
Savannah pursed her lips and refused to look Dean in the eye, “You’re so morbid.”  
She was carefully painting Dean’s nails deep purple and adding little white wings with a fork she had swiped from the cafeteria since they didn’t allow toothpicks in the building. Dean’s hands were pale and bony, and Dean was a sunken shell of himself. His head was bald and covered in flaking scabs. His eyes were so dull they were almost milky when he even opened them. He spent most of his time sleeping and being fed nutrients and pain killers through an IV. He hasn’t been able to hold anything by himself for two weeks and he stopped getting out of bed by himself almost three weeks ago. Despite how little control he had, despite everything he went through, he could still crack a joke and even smile.  
Savannah’s eyes welled and she stubbornly bit her lip to keep herself from crying.   
“Kinda hard… not to be… when you’re… dying.”  
She didn’t speak.  
“Hey… kid.”  
She looked up, finally.  
“Listen… I’m getting… out. I’m gonna… spend… my last… last day… living.”  
“When are you leaving?” Savannah asked, he hands frozen and nail polish drying on the brush.  
“When… my ride… gets here.”  
“Dean?” Savannah finished another wing and capped the nail polish bottle.   
He made a noise that could have meant he was in pain or he was listening. Savannah chose the latter.   
“What are you gonna do? On your last day, I mean.”  
“First… I’m gonna go… to a diner… and eat pie. Apple pie. Then drive… my baby.”  
“Your baby?”  
“Impala… 1967… Chevy… Impala. My dad’s car.”  
“Huh. And then what?”  
“Tell… tell my… brother… I love… love him. I don’t… never did that… enough. And then… I’m gonna see… my best friend.”  
“Cas?”  
“Yeah. He’s gonna… walk me… into the light… or whatever.” Dean coughed lightly.   
Savannah grabbed the nearby cup of water and held the straw to his chapped lips. He drank slowly this time.  
“What happened to the strip club? Last week you said you were going to a strip club.” She dropped her voice and sat with her legs splayed, making a crude impersonation of Dean “I’m gonna die with my face buried in a strippers ass.”  
Dean laughed quietly, “I don’t… have enough… time. Gotta… spend it all… with my family.”  
“But you said Sam was the only family you had left.”  
“No. Got Cas… and I got… got you.”  
Savannah smiled crookedly and sniffed, “Fuck you Dean. You’re gonna make me cry.”  
Nurse Heni knocked on the doorframe and they both turned to look at him. “Dean, your brother’s here.”  
Dean nodded slightly and the nurse went to get a wheelchair.   
“Kid.”  
Savannah turned her attention back to him.  
“There’s a… letter. Under my pillow. After… I leave, open it.”  
She nodded, slightly confused and watched as Nurse Hemi came back and deposited Dean into the wheelchair. They left the room and she dug around under the pillows. She came up with a single piece of notebook paper, folded in half. Inside was a mess of scrawling scribbles, barely legible. It was a letter.  
“Dear Savannah,” it read, “I think of you as a part of my family, and for me, family is more important than anything in the world. I’ve learned that family isn’t who you’re related to. It’s who you choose. Cas wanted me to tell you that he’ll stick around when I’m gone, so you should talk to him sometimes. Even if you can’t hear him, he’ll be there. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye before I left. I’m not coming back, so if angels or demons ever come snooping around, use these sigils to keep yourself safe. Just grab a marker and draw them on your arm if you have to. I’ll miss you, Dean”  
A fat teardrop smudged the anti-possession symbol painstakingly drawn on the bottom of the page. He must’ve spent hours trying to keep his hands from shaking long enough to finish.  
“You fucking,” she grasped for an insult and eventually spat out, “turd burger!” before collapsing into a fit of sobs.  
~~  
“Hey, Sammy!” Dean cracked a smile when he saw his brother filling out paperwork at the front desk.  
Nurse Hemi handed off Dean’s wheelchair to Sam and went over medication instructions before letting them leave.   
Sam wheeled Dean out the doors and told him, “You’ll be happy to know I fixed up the impala. She’s back to normal.”  
“Can I… drive?” Dean asked hopefully.  
“Not a chance.”  
Dean looked forlorn, “Worth a… shot.”  
They both struggled to get Dean into the passenger seat. Then Sam had to wrestle with the collapsible wheelchair. Dean thought it was hilarious. Sam did not.   
“Alright, where do you want to go first?” asked Sam.  
“Pie!” exclaimed Dean.  
Sam chuckled, “Pie it is.”  
He started up the impala and the radio blared to life with Lead Zeppelin’s “Ramble On.”  
Dean was grinning so wide a corner of his mouth was starting to bleed from cracking. Sam’s smile turned into a grimace, but he shook it off and pulled out of the parking lot. He was going to find the best goddamn diner around or die trying.  
The nearest diner, Flo’s, was pretty good, as far as diners go. Sam ordered some soup for Dean and a burger for himself before he let Dean have any sweets.  
Dean sent him glares over the spoon as he was fed. They got a few odd looks, but Dean didn’t seem to mind, so Sam let it be. Dean only ate a third of his soup and two small nibbles of Sam’s burger.  
Sam was more than worried, so he ordered a slice of all five different pie flavors for Dean. They sampled each of the slices; cherry, blueberry, apple, coconut cream, and lemon meringue. Dean thought the apple pie was the best, and Sam tried to talk him into moving coconut cream to third place. Dean was quickly exhausted, so Sam wheeled them back out to the impala and wrestled both his brother and the wheelchair back into the car with slightly more ease than before.   
Dean was out within minutes. Sam had to pull over so he could take off his jacket and use it to prop up Dean’s head. He looked so uncomfortable sleeping like that. When they got to the hotel, Sam had rented an honest to god hotel this time, Sam discovered it was even harder to move Dean when he was asleep than when he was awake. Eventually he managed to get up to the room and carefully lay Dean in one of the beds.  
He made sure to prop up Dean’s pillow and leave an open bottle with just a little bit of water in it by his bedside in case he needed a drink.   
Sam had his brother back. His face fell, looking at Dean. He looked… broken. Dean was supposed to be indestructible. He’d seen his brother literally face both Death and Hell and walk out grinning like the cat that caught the mouse. Even when he was covered in blood and choking on his own insults, he was fighting. He couldn’t watch his brother lie down and let this happen. He just couldn’t.  
Maybe he didn’t have to.  
Sam grabbed his coat and scribbled out a note to leave by the water bottle before shoving the keys in his pocket and sneaking out the door. He only hoped Dean would forgive him for this.  
Sam ran into a few stores and stopped by the local graveyard for supplies before he drove out of town, far enough that he wouldn’t be seen. He found a crossroads in the middle of nowhere and stopped. He grabbed the box in the passenger seat and threw in one of his fake ID cards. He tossed in a Ziploc bag of milk from a black cow, thank you organic food stores, and a handful of graveyard dirt before getting out. He dug a shallow groove in the middle of the road and buried the box while chanting, “Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae.”  
He stepped back and looked around warily, muttering under his breath, “Come on, come on, come on.”   
“Hello, Moose.”  
Sam whipped around to face Crowley.  
“Fancy seeing you here.”  
“Crowley?” Sam was genuinely confused. This was such a simple deal. Why would the king of Hell take his call?  
“The one and only,” he grinned cheekily.  
“Okay, fine. Whatever. I want to trade my life for Deans. How long can you give me?” he demanded, shaking off his initial confusion.  
“Sorry, no can do, Samantha.”  
“What?” Sam asked quietly, anger in his eyes.  
Crowley rolled his eyes, “No need to be so melodramatic. I’m not going to take your soul, and neither is any other demon you can catch.”  
“I don’t understand. Why won’t you take my soul? You love fucking us over!” Sam was ready to punch Crowley, not that it would do him any good.  
“Ah, you know me so well. As much as I would, in any other situation, love to tear your soul from your body and drag you down into the pits of Hell, I can’t extend Dean’s life.”  
“Can’t or won’t?”  
“Can’t. Apparently Dean cashed in a favor with a reaper. He’s quite determined to die for somebody who won’t stay dead,” he shrugged.  
“No. He wouldn’t do that.”  
“You two and your entertaining soap opera of a life. You know communication is important in a relationship. You both could have avoided a lot of misunderstandings if you had just sat down and talked.”  
“Shut up.” Sam’s shoulders tensed, and then slumped.  
“Aw, giving up already, are we? Chin up, you can still trade your soul for something else. I could give you the ability to talk to the dead!”  
“By killing me?”  
“It’s possible.”  
Sam let out a long, sad sigh and turned to leave. He crawled back into the impala and drove away; ignoring Crowley’s jibing offers of immortality so that he could watch everyone else he loved die too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I lied. Two more chapters starting now, and then it'll be finished.


	7. Prayer

Sam slipped back into the room quieter than a mouse, trying not to wake Dean. Too bad he was already up. He met his brother’s questioning gaze when he entered.  
“Hey, Dean. You’re up,” he said lamely.  
“Sammy,” Dean wheezed. “Where you… been.”  
Sam opened his mouth, looking away from Dean’s accusing stare, “Nowhere.” He really wished he had picked up some groceries while he was in town.  
“What did… you do?”  
Sometimes they knew each other too well. He wasn’t going to let this one go either.  
“I just went out for a drink is all,” Sam lied.  
“Sammy. When you… were dying… I traded… my life. Where’d… you go?”  
Damn. He really couldn’t get out of this one.  
Sam rubbed his neck and looked down, “I tried to make a deal.”  
“You wh-“ Dean was cut off by a barrage of coughing. He rolled onto the side and curled into a ball.  
When Dean’s breathing evened out again Sam grabbed a tissue and wiped his brother’s face.  
“I can’t do this Dean. I can’t watch you die. Not again.”  
“Can’t… watch you die… either.”  
“You don’t have to, since no demon would have me.”  
“Give up… Sammy.”  
“I can’t do that Dean. And I know you wouldn’t stop trying either.”  
Dean just sighed lightly and asked, “Can I… use… your phone?”  
Sam slipped his cell out of his pocket, “Sure, who do you want me to dial?”  
“Charlie.”  
“I don’t know if she’s back from Oz yet, but I can try.” He dialed the number, but it went to voicemail as he held it to Dean’s ear.  
Dean started talking anyways, “Hey… Charlie. It’s Dean. Just wanted… to… let you know… you’re like… a sister… to me. Thanks for… for putting up… with me. Tell Dorothy… I said… hey.”  
He listened to the beep of the answering machine as it stopped recording before Sam took the phone away.  
“Jody.”  
Sam dialed another number and held the phone to Dean’s ear again. There were three rings before Dean heard, “Hello?”  
“Hey, Jody. It’s Dean.”  
“Dean? You sound awful. Are you alright?”  
He chuckled lightly, “As good… as I can be.”  
“So you’re not in trouble?”  
“No, I just… wanted to… talk. How… how you been?”  
“Ah, alright. I think I’m getting a hang of this hunter thing if that’s what you mean.”  
“You… you’re a good… hunter.”  
She was quiet for a moment before she asked, “Dean, is Sam there with you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Can I talk to him?”  
He looked up at Sam, “Wants to talk… to you.”  
Sam held the phone to his own ear, “Hey, Jodi.”  
“No, no drugs. Well, no recreational drugs. Yeah. No. No, he’s…”  
Sam walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later, grimly putting the phone back against his brother’s ear. Dean flinched at the string of curses over the phone and for a second he could have sworn there was a banshee on the other end of the line.  
“-can’t even tell me? How long do you have left?”  
“Sorry. Days.”  
“Were you even gonna tell me?”  
Dean didn’t answer that.  
“I think the only reason Bobby could stand the two of you was because he was just as stubborn, you idiot. Were you even going to say goodbye?”  
“I’m not good… with goodbyes.”  
“Well I’m fine with talking.”  
Dean talked with Jodi for an hour before Sam made him hang up so he could rest his throat. She talked about her life and the recent hunts she had been on. She went on another date. The guy was a drug trafficker. Don’t know why he thought dating an officer would work out. She was volunteering in a high school self-defense event. Dean didn’t let her talk about him too much. He just wanted to hear how she was doing.  
“Lisa.”  
Sam didn’t say anything, just dialed.  
“Hello?”  
Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Tears began to leek down his cheeks. “Sorry ma’am. Wrong number.”  
Sam hangs up for him.  
“Krissy.”  
She doesn’t answer either. In fact, it’s someone else’s number now. It’s a man’s voice in the recording.  
Dean doesn’t say anything after that call.  
“Anyone else?” Sam asks.  
“Everybody else… beat me… to it. One regret… that I didn’t… outlive… those damn… ghost busters.”  
Sam smiled wryly, “I don’t suppose you want to give them a call too?”  
“Over my… dead… body.”  
Sam dropped his grin. “I’m going to head out. Actually get some food this time. I’ll be back soon, so call me if you need anything. And I’ll pick you up some pie while I’m out.”  
“Already… had pie.”  
“But you love pie.”  
Dean didn’t answer, just kept his eyes shut. Sam figured he’d let him off the hook this time.  
Dean kept his eyes closed after Sam left, listening to the sound of his fading footsteps. Damn he was a coward. Jodi was right. He couldn’t say goodbye.  
“Naomi,” he prayed. “I’m ready.”  
When he opened his eyes he was sitting in his wheelchair, in the middle of a desert. The ground was flat and cracked and Dean couldn’t see anything for miles. The air was cool and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon. He blinked again and Suddenly there were three angels.  
“Naomi,” Dean greeted.  
~~  
At the same time Dean was praying to Naomi, Sam was praying to Gabriel in the impala.  
“Hey Samsquatch. How’s it hanging?”  
Sam jumped slightly, and then forced himself to relax. He turned to look at Gabriel who was sitting in the passenger seat, sucking on a lollypop with his feet on the dashboard.  
“Where are your shoes?”  
He pulled the lollipop out with a wet pop. “I bet you’d love to know that wouldn’t you? It’s a long story involving drunken misadventures, an alligator and a hot blonde, but I won’t bore you with the details.”  
Sam shook his head, “Never mind. I need you to do me a favor.”  
“Only if you promise to return the favor,” he wiggled his eyebrows.  
“Whatever you want, just heal my brother.”  
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, licking his grape lollipop lazily.  
“Cancer. But you’re an angel, so you can fix that, right?”  
“Sure thing, it’s as simple as snapping my-“ he snapped his fingers and froze mid sentence.  
That was not a good sign.  
Gabriel snapped his fingers again. “Sam,” he asked nonchalantly, “where’s your brother?”  
“He’s in the hotel where I left him. Why?”  
“Ah, see, he’s not. He was about three seconds ago, but now he’s not. And I also can’t heal him. I don’t think anyone can. I don’t know what his problem is but it’s not cancer.”  
“What? That’s impossible. He can’t even move by himself. How would he get…” Sam trailed off, eyes widening. “Oh god is he dead? Did he die while I was sitting here?”  
Gabriel grabbed his arm and stopped his attempt to get out of the car and run to his brother.  
“Easy there Sammy. He’s not dead yet. He’s just moved. I can’t see him, so we’ll have to use a tracking spell. We need to find him as soon as possible.”  
“Or what?”  
“Well think about it. Dean can’t move on his own so someone else had to of moved him in the span of three seconds. The options are narrow and malign. Come on, I’ll drive.”  
They disappeared only to reappear in the hotel room with a large bowl, some candles and various other supplies. Sam nearly fell forward when he found himself standing rather than sitting, but Gabriel caught him and hauled him back up.  
He rubbed his hands together excitedly, “This shouldn’t take long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I feel like this chapter was shorter. Ah well, the end is nigh. I should only have one more chapter to finish and I'll try to get it done today. Also i realized that everyone Dean cared about is pretty much dead so the phone calls were kind of pathetic. I also realized halfway through this chapter that I didn't give Dean the mark of Cain and I didn't have a good reason for the angels to not be able to heal Dean, or at least Gabe. He's usually out of the loop so I don't think he would have gotten the notice from Dean's reaper friend. So he's the only angel that tried to save Dean. Which is why he's the only one that realized something was up. Here I go rambling again. This is why this fic didn't stay four chapters.


	8. In the End

Dean zeroed in on the ancient looking box covered in Enochian that the angel next to her held.   
“Are you sure about this Dean?” she asked once more.  
Cas hovered nearby and asked the same.  
“I lived… my life. I’m ready.”  
The angel in the woman’s body opened the box and Naomi removed a glowing vial. She brought it to Dean and instructed him to hold out his hands.  
He lifted them weakly and cupped them tightly.  
Dean smiled at the light that seared him to the core. He could feel Cas’s grace right down to the roots of his soul, it was warm. Warmer than any burn he had received. Warmer than a thousand suns, even. But he did not burn.  
“What’s going on?” he faintly heard Naomi ask.  
There was light, blinding light. Just like when angels showed their true forms, but he could see, and he could feel. The world was suddenly made of molecules. He could feel the strings of the universe in motion and time itself bending around him. He watched as the grace in his hands reached up and pulled something from him. It was agonizing, like his soul was being ripped in two. He saw visions of Heaven and Hell and apocalypses and war across centuries. He also saw creation and the evolution of Earth and its creatures. He could see stars colliding, black holes ending, and comets burning out their lives. Suddenly there was a distinct snap and it was all gone. No more visions and colors that he had never even seen before. His muddled mind was scrabbling to make sense of what had happened when he looked up to see Cas.  
It took him much longer than he would like to admit to realize the other angels were looking at Cas as well. That couldn’t be right. Only he could see Cas. He looked down at his hands. They were clean and smooth, not dry and thin like they had been just moments ago. Heaven? No, he would be living in a memory if this was heaven, and Naomi had not made that face in his memory. Hell than? Not enough screaming. Not Purgatory. He would have recognized that. Was he a ghost?  
Cas answered that question for him when he reached out and gently lifted Dean’s face to look up at his own. He could feel that hand.  
“Cas?” Dean asked almost reverently.  
His own hand reached up and covered Castiel’s.   
“Cas,” tears streaked their way down Dean’s cheeks and he stood, flinging himself at Cas.  
They both stood wrapped around each other, completely oblivious to the world around them.   
Cas pulled back far enough to ask “How did you?”  
“I don’t know,” Dean laughed and then pecked Cas on the lips. His eyes widened and he flailed about for an excuse when Cas slotted his own mouth over Deans and kissed him into silence. The world fell away and when Dean opened his eyes again he could swear he saw Cas’s wings.   
They were interrupted by Sam coughing awkwardly.  
The two broke apart, but still held onto each other, reluctant to move away.  
“Sam?” Dean asked in confusion.  
“Yeah, uh, good to, um… Good to see you’re, ah, hi Cas,” he stumbled through his words, desperately looking anywhere but at his brother and Castiel.  
Dean looked at Sam and then back at Cas before telling Sam, “I can explain.”  
Sam’s eyebrows rose in expectant disbelief.  
“Um, magic?”  
Sam snorted and the other angels shot him a glare. “Actually, I think I know what happened.”  
Sam was suddenly on the receiving end of Naomi’s glare and he shifted uncomfortably. “I tried several… unconventional methods to heal Dean, but none of them worked.” Dean was making that face again. “And I think it’s because there wasn’t anything actually wrong with Dean, besides the cancer treatments he was going through. He just had an extra piece sitting in his brain.”  
“And that piece was Castiel’s human soul?” Naomi asked.  
“Ghosts can latch onto things, so why not people,” Sam shrugged.  
“But that’s impossible,” Naomi exclaimed.  
“Lady, we’re the Winchesters,” Dean grinned. “We’ve been doing the impossible for years.”  
“It doesn’t make sense,” she argued. “You should be dead. There’s no way that a human soul could accept grace so easily. None of this should be possible!”  
Dean elected to ignore Naomi and turned back to Cas, “Come on Cas. There’s somebody that needs to know I’m still alive.”  
Castiel smiled easily and they were standing in front of the Boise State Psychiatric Center. They untangled and walked inside.  
“Oh! You should make sure Sam gets back to the hotel. Naomi didn’t look to happy.”  
Cas nodded and a bemused Sam found himself back in the middle of the messy hotel room. Apparently Gabriel didn’t like cleaning up.  
Dean sauntered over to the front desk. “Hey, we’re here to visit Savannah Ee.”  
“What is your relation to the patient?” The man asked.  
“Family friends.”  
“I’m sorry, only…” he trailed off as Cas tapped his forehead with two fingers.  
The receptionist nodded and made a call.   
Dean snickered and mimed Castiel’s action, “These are not the droids you are looking for.”  
“I do not understand that reference.”  
Dean lightly hit his shoulder, “We’re catching up on Star Wars as soon as we can find a TV.”  
A familiar face came out to greet them and Dean shrunk behind Cas, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized.   
Nurse Hemi smiled at them and led them to Savannah’s room.  
He knocked at the doorframe, “Savannah, you have visitors.”  
“If it’s my mom tell her to go fuck herself!”  
Dean smiled warmly and waited until the Nurse left before stepping inside the room, “Hey, kid.”  
Savannah shot up on her bed and stared at Dean, her mouth hanging open.  
“No fucking way.”  
“Yes way.”  
“You,” her face twisted up, “Asshole! You fucking dick sandwich!” She picked up her pillow and hopped off of the bed before pummeling Dean mercilessly, “You told me you were dead! I though you killed yourself you fucking hypocrite!”  
“Hey, hey! Not the face! I just got that fixed,” he tried to fend off her attacks. “To be honest I didn’t plan on coming back, but accidents happen.”  
She stopped beating him with the pillow long enough to ask, “What kind of accident cures cancer and grows back your hair in a day!?”  
Dean grinned so wide he could swear he could feel his face craking. He gestured to Cas, “Savannah, meet Cas.”  
She turned her gaze to Cas, “No way.” She shook her head slowly, “No fucking way.”  
Cas awkwardly held her gaze, but didn’t say anything.  
She narrowed her eyes. “Prove it.”  
He tilted his head and thought for a moment before saying, “In the photograph you were all wearing gold party hats.”  
Savannah stared at him for a moment longer, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, “I have to eat my sweatpants don’t I?”  
“I will not hold you to your word this time.”  
Savannah smiled and dropped the pillow in favor of pulling them both into a bone crushing hug.  
“That reminds me,” Dean tried to speak while having his lungs deflated, “Cas is a doctor.”  
“I am not a doctor.”  
“Just roll with me Cas.”  
Cas just huffed and nodded.  
Savannah laughed, “It’s so weird hearing the other side of the conversation.”  
“Told you I wasn’t crazy. Anyways, Cas is a great doctor, which is why he’s visiting this place.”  
“Many of these patients have irregularities in the brain or chemical imbalances that can be easily fixed.”  
“He’s an angel so he has healing mojo,” Dean clarified.  
Cas sent a longsuffering glance upwards before continuing. “For others, like yourself, the problem is more situational, which I cannot fix.”  
“BUT,” Dean quickly added, “there is something we can do. You don’t have to stay here. You can come with us. We can get the adoption papers and everything. Whatdaya say?”  
“Seriously?”  
“Seriously.”  
“Just like that?”  
“Our life is not without its own risks and downfalls. You may be in danger more often than not. You will need to learn to fight and will not be able to stay in one place for more than a few weeks. We are hunted by the authorities quite often.”  
“Geez, Debby Downer,” Dean smacked Cas’s arm.  
“Fuck it. I’ll do it,” she said decisively.   
“Congrats kid. You’re a Winchester. Sam’s gonna love this.”  
Castiel laughed before vanishing.  
“Holy fuck!” Savannah swore. “Where did he go?”  
“He’s an angel now. Angels are the laziest things you will ever meet. They’d rather teleport a foot than take a step. Cas didn’t even know how to walk down stairs when he turned into a human,” his expression became unexpectedly grim.  
“But where did he go?”  
“I told you he’s a doctor, right? He’s healing whoever he can before we leave. Most everybody’ll be stuck here for a while just to readjust, but they have their own lives again.”  
“What else can he do? How come he doesn’t have wings? Why can I see him now? What happened while you were gone? Does your brother know you’re here?”  
“Woah, hold up there. You should ask Cas all the angel related questions. I can tell you everything once we get back to the apartment.”  
“When are we leaving?”  
“As soon as you are ready,” Cas popped behind Savannah.  
Savannah jumped and screamed, “Jiminy fracking Cricket! Do you always do that?”  
Castiel made a face, “Is ‘that’ a personal space issue?”  
“Don’t worry, you get used to it. Now, how do you feel about getting a tattoo?”  
“Awesome!”  
“Good. What about on your ribs?”  
“What?”  
~~  
Sam was pacing back and forth in the newly cleaned hotel room, staring at his very silent cell phone. Where were they? He still couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened. He and Gabriel had located Dean and popped up in the middle of nowhere and then Gabriel had thrown Sam to the ground and covered his eyes. He heard him mumble something about Cas’s grace and then the weight was gone.   
He had opened his eyes to see three angels staring down at him. Naomi had demanded to know how he had gotten there. Gabriel had disappeared so he offered, “Magic?”   
They were probably going to interrogate him before they realized Castiel was there, then “that” happened and they poofed out of there, without him. Assholes. Cas must’ve brought him back to the hotel as an afterthought.   
Now he was stuck waiting in a hotel room that smelled faintly like burnt sugar for his not dead brother to show up from his fucking honeymoon. If Dean wasn’t still dying then he was going to kill him himself.  
He’d already cleaned up the blood and soot scattered all over the room from Gabriel’s tracking spell. Sam briefly wondered if he had anything to do with all of this. If Dean was healed then he still owed the angel, didn’t he? Crap.  
“OH GOD THAT FUCKING HURTS!”   
Sam nearly did a backflip he turned around so hard.   
“Wow kid, your pain tolerance is pretty low.”  
“Yeah, because somebody FUCKING CARVED INTO MY RIBS.”  
“I apologize, it was necessary that you possessed proper charms to keep you from danger and detection.”  
“Walk it off, kid.”  
Sam stared at them for a second, “What the fuck Dean.”  
Dean just smiled like the asshole he was. “Sam, this is Savannah Winchester. She’s our kid now.” He gestured between himself and Cas.  
“Dean,” panic began creeping into Sam’s voice. “Did you kidnap somebody’s kid?”  
“Nope. Legally adopted. Didn’t even have to Jedi mind control the parents.”  
“He can do that?” Savannah asked from her hunched position on the floor.  
“Yeah, he can do all sorts of stuff with his angel mojo.”  
“Dean. I thought you were dead.”  
“Ah, shit. Here we go again.”  
“You didn’t even tell me where you were going! I’ve been here for hours waiting for you to call or show up. I didn’t even know if you were still… Are you healed? No more cancer or anything?”  
“Dean is completely healed. I made sure of that myself.”  
“You can trust him, he’s a magic doctor,” Savannah offered from the floor.  
“And what are we going to do with her?” Sam asked, gesturing to Savannah.  
“Savannah is going to stay with us. I told you, we adopted.”  
“When did you two get married?” asked Sam.  
“Not married,” said Dean.  
“But you’re in lurve,” Savannah broke into a fit of giggles on the floor.  
“Quiet you,” Dean nudged her with his foot, eliciting a moan of pain.  
“Hey Cas. I don’t suppose you have any magic painkillers.”  
“Ah, my apologies.” He touched her forehead and she immediately uncurled and stood up.  
“Dude, next time do that first.” She looked at Sam for the first time, “Uh, hi?”  
“Meet your Uncle Sam,” said Dean.  
“I remember you being a lot more patriotic,” she said.  
Sam buried his face in his hands, “She’s your daughter alright.”  
Dean laughed and threw his arm around Cas’s waist. He was ready to die this morning, but fate was unusually kind today. This could work. They’d figure things out as they went along. As long as they all stuck together, they could make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this is longer than the other chapters. I didn't want to split it into two just because that would have broken up the events. Unbetaed because it is way to late for me to care and I just want to finish the story. If you find any mistakes please tell me. I know I said this would be the last chapter but I want to tack on one more epilogue. I'll get it done today. Promise.


	9. Epilogue

“I now pronounce you husband and husband, you may kiss the groom.”  
Dean leaned forward and smiled into the kiss as his lips touched Castiel’s. His hand snaked up to Cas’s neck and Cas dipped Dean, earning a cheer from their audience. Their lips broke apart and they laughed, gazing into each other’s eyes. Cas gave him another quick peck before lifting him back up.  
They hopped off the stage set up in Charlie’s backyard and mingled with their guests who were all headed straight for the buffet table. Charlie waved them over from the desert table where a huge three layer cake with little cartoonish cupids all over it sat.  
Cas pulled his angel blade out of thin air and Dean put his hand over Cas’s. They cut two slices out of the cake and picked them up. When they went to feed each other Dean mashed his piece into Cas’s face. The audience laughed and Charlie told Cas to retaliate. So Cas grabbed Dean by the back of the head and shoved his face into the cake.  
Dean pulled his face out and doubled over laughing. Cas just smiled fondly at him through chocolate cake and white frosting while the guests all mourned the loss of a good portion of the cake. Charlie cut the rest of the salvageable cake and doled out pieces to the other guests.  
There was a whine as the stereo system was turned on.  
[Music started up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIfhMUcVswU) and Savannah spoke into the microphone from the DJ stand, “Let’s get the happy couple on the dance floor.”  
Everybody cheered them into the center of the backyard, clearing out a space for them to dance. Dean held out his hand, “May I have this Dance.”  
Cas took the offered hand, “You may.”  
They pulled each other close and Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck while he held Dean’s waist.  
The white and blue Christmas lights that were strung up around the backyard lit up as the sun went down and Dean and Cas danced under their glow.  
Sam was munching on cake near the Champagne table when he heard the light stirring of wings.  
A hand reached out next to him and plucked a glass off the table. “So does this make me the weird uncle or you?” Gabriel asked before downing the glass like a shot.  
“Which one of us masqueraded as a god for a few centuries?”  
“Touché.”  
They watched their brothers dancing together, whispering back and forth under the dim light.  
“You know,” Gabriel started, “technically you still owe me that favor for saving Dean.”  
“I call bullshit. You didn’t do anything besides zap me into the desert and then leave me a room full of blood and soot. I had to clean that by hand since Dean and Cas decided to go frolicking.”  
“Alright, fine. But I did save your life while we were in the desert. Witnessing an angel usually burns your squishy human bodies to ash.”  
“Exactly what kind of favor do you want so badly, anyhow?” Sam asked.  
Gabriel scratched his chin, “I was going to heal Dean and then make you guys help me find Cas before heaven did, but Dean did all that without me.”  
“So what do you want now?”  
“I’ve never been an uncle before. I just want to be a part of all this,” he gestured widely to the happy celebration, I guess.”  
Sam looked around at all the happy faces. People and creatures that he had come to think of as family over the years. He turned his attention to the couple dancing together, smiling like they were on cloud nine. Even he wanted what they had. He would give anything to stay a part of their happy family, to feel like he belonged somewhere people loved him. He could understand Gabriel.  
Sam hummed, “She’s their kid, don’t ask the weird uncle.”  
Gabriel smiled at him, “If you’re the weird uncle then what does that make me?”  
“I’m not sure there’s a word out there that accurately describes you.”  
“Indescribable.”  
Sam snorted, “Incorrigible.”  
“Ineffable.”  
“infuriating.”  
The music changed to a faster tempo and people joined the happy couple on the dance floor.  
Dean could be heard complaining to Savannah over the music, “Every Time We Touch, really?”  
“Hey you guys are handsy, I’m just pointing out the obvious,” she shouted back.  
“Wanna dance?” Gabriel asked.  
Sam put down his cake and downed another glass of Champagne. “Why not, I think I’ve had enough Champagne to embarrass Dean.”  
Gabriel laughed and dragged Sam out to the dance floor.  
Next to them Charlie was trying to teach Dorothy how to dance in this dimension.  
~~  
Hours later, Savannah put on [another slow song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTZ7TXTBegM)  
Dean rested his head on Cas’s shoulder as they swayed to and fro to the music.  
As he listened to the song he laughed slightly.  
“How did she manage to find something so oddly specific?” Cas wondered out loud.  
“Magic?” Dean offered.  
He picked his head off of Cas’s shoulders and rested their foreheads together.  
“Love you Cas,” he murmured.  
“I love you too,” Cas said before leaning in to kiss Dean under the stars with the words “trench coat angel” floating around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah I really love this ok. I just really needed Cas and Dean slow dancing to pretty music. Oh and in case anyone was wondering Cas died falling down the stairs because he forgot he couldn't teleport, and Dean hated himself for not foreseeing problems like that. Shit I just ruined the happy mood didn't I? Go read it again. And I promise I'm done with it this time. No more chapters or anything. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I swear it's going to have a happy ending, just trust me on this one. Comments and critiques are appreciated.


End file.
